


Trouble

by SLWalker



Series: Game of Thrones: Alderaan [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, M/M, Nobility, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: I’m going to die,Bail thought.Hopefully before we become a scandal.





	Trouble

There were certain expectations one had to live up to, when they lived in a noble house.

Of course, no one had expected anything of Maul for his first few years on the estate; he wasn’t in any kind of shape, mentally speaking, to _interact_ with people, let alone socialize. Bail’s parents had their misgivings initially about Bail bringing home a teenaged convict who looked as fierce, with his wild colors and horns, as he was purported to be, but even those misgivings faded fast when Maul utterly failed to act like a convict. Or, for that matter, failed to act as anything but a confused if colorful ghost that largely avoided them.

Despite not knowing what to do with him, though, they took his probation and hopeful rehabilitation quite seriously. When the family doctor recommended nutrition standards that had gone woefully unmet in prison for someone his age, the kitchen had the information before an hour was up. The moment Maul showed any sign of being genuinely aware of the world outside of his own mind, Bail’s parents hired the same tutor who had once taught all four of their children to make sure he’d have his gen-ed certificate and therefore an opportunity to go to university. They were concerned about Bail’s black eye, but they accepted his explanation and didn’t blame Maul.

And when Maul did finally engage with them, the first time being a quiet expression of gratitude for their hospitality, they handled it with grace and kindness, appropriately reserved and openly genuine. Bail was pretty damn proud of his parents and Maul right then.

It was a year after that when Bail’s mother cornered Maul – not literally, but no one was impolite enough to turn down her summons in her house – and quite gently informed him of her expectations. Because while Maul wasn’t here _for_ anything, he was still expected to represent the house he was a ward of during functions on the estate, and represent it well.

Thus, at the age of around-eighteen – since no one knew for sure what his exact age was – he made his first appearance at one of the family’s parties. These were regular affairs, sometimes involving the other Houses of Alderaan, sometimes involving guests visiting from other worlds. Sometimes they hosted scientists, sometimes businessmen. These parties served the function of strengthening old alliances and making new ones, and Bail had been expected to attend them since he was four, whenever he was available to do so.

Maul lasted maybe six minutes before Bail was rescuing him, guessing pretty much right to the second when Maul would go from ‘uncomfortable but managing’ to 'overwhelmed.’

That didn’t get Maul off the hook. Pinned between Mazicia Organa’s expectations of him and his own sense of gratitude, he made an appearance at every single party, though most of the time it was a very brief one.

Still, even while Maul was teaching Bail how to fight and to defend himself, he was grilling Bail about manners and protocol, learning how to conduct himself. Whatever time, however limited it was, that he went out there in his tailored formal wear, he acted every bit a gentleman, and Bail was never _not_ entertained by how taken aback the unsuspecting were by the seeming incongruity of Maul’s existence. Not only for his appearance – he was often enough the most eye-catching person in attendance – but also for his perfect manners and soft, inner-core-accented voice.

But mostly he only made short appearances, just long enough to satisfy their matriarch and his own sense of honor, then politely slipped away. Even with those short appearances, his presence became well-known; eventually, people familiar with House Organa didn’t even look at him twice. (Though, Bail noted, everyone still looked at least _once_.)

Three years after that first six minute showing, and that was no longer the story.

 

 

 

 _I’m going to die,_ Bail thought. _Hopefully before we become a scandal._

The first indication of how much trouble Bail was in walked in wearing clothes Bail had never seen him in before. Maul had about as much interest in fashion as he did in politics, which was to say _none_ , so either the tailor had gotten especially creative, or Maul had made a request for this outfit specifically knowing it would get to Bail. In the day-to-day, he dressed quite plainly, so it was usually a treat to see him in tailored clothing, but this–

This was _meant_ to draw looks.

It wasn’t the least bit scandalous, just as a mode of dress. A very well-cut doublet, wide v-stripes down the breast that alternated between two forms of black, one of which soaked up the light, the other of which shimmered faintly either red or gold, depending on the angle one was standing at. This over equally well-cut trousers, tall black boots, and a leather belt with black gloves tucked into it. And, of course, the half-cape over one shoulder, fastened in gold, trimmed in a thin line of the same, which just so happened to match the gold studs in Maul’s ears.

Perfectly respectable clothing, but Bail almost dropped his wine glass.

That wasn’t all, though. Oh, no, because Bail could hold his composure through a lot and as enticing a view as his lover made there, he could handle that. He was far better at hiding his appreciative looks than some of their guests, too.

Except, instead of just making a token appearance, Maul actually _stuck around_. He couldn’t have been that interested in explaining for the eighth or ninth time to new people that no, those were markings and not tattoos – or how far down they went – but he was mingling. Talking to people. Bail overheard a snippet of conversation about his university classes, which he had just started a semester ago. Not that Bail was listening that intently or anything.

“Lord Bail?”

Bail dragged his attention back to Myrian of House Syrush, trying to remember what they had been talking about, feeling his face heat. “I’m sorry, I must have fazed out for a second there. What were you saying?”

Obviously, this was just a minor difficulty to overcome. Bail redoubled his efforts to be a good, non-distracted host, nodding and listening to Myrian as she discussed her position on the Arts Council. Mother would be quite pleased about that; their houses were old allies and–

Kriff, did he even polish his _horns?_

All the while, Maul seemed perfectly oblivious to what he was doing to Bail. Unlike Bail, he appeared to have no trouble whatsoever giving his full attention to whoever he was chatting with.

Of course, Bail _knew better_ , but there was nothing he could do about that. Even if he could figure out a way to excuse himself and take Maul with, he would be expected back before any of this could be– dealt with. At least until later.

When he had to be prompted back to the conversation for the second time, he realized he was going to be lucky to get out of this night alive.

 

 

 

Dinner was a special kind of hell.

Bail hadn’t had this much trouble sitting still since he was in his single digits.

Maul always had a place at the table, even if he never used it; if he forfeited it, it would be offered to someone else, but he didn’t tonight. Which meant he was sitting right across from Bail, between Tia and Celly, and making life extremely difficult.

Bail’s mother was pleased, not realizing the wicked intentions behind Maul actually staying for dinner. She had never been quite right after her brother’s murder, but between her four natural children and almost-adopted fifth, she had seemed brighter the past couple of years. Bail knew for a fact that it was only going to be a matter of time before Maul was officially made a member of the house; beyond the fact that adoption was a long respected tradition of House Organa, he made the matriarch happy. She couldn’t exactly parent him, but she was proud of him.

Of course, if she knew what kind of trouble he was up to, that would probably swiftly change.

Bail made it through appetizers in one piece. It helped that Celly managed to distract Maul from any devilry he might have gotten up to by discussing her own time at university. It was actually a really pleasant conversation to listen to.

He should have known his luck wouldn’t hold, though.

While they were working on the main course, Maul reached up and ran his fingertips under his neckline, as if adjusting the collar of his doublet. This might have been perfectly innocent, except he _lingered_ on it.

Bail was proud of himself for not responding in some notable way.

They both joined the conversation when prompted. They finished their main course. Bail was counting the minutes until this wound down far enough for him to excuse himself. Just to make this mutually uncomfortable he focused his attention on Tia, who was talking, but 'absently’ stroked his fingertips up and down his wine glass.

When he caught Maul sitting up straighter out of the edge of his vision, it took all of his formidable willpower not to smirk.

 _Two can play this game,_ he thought, picking that glass up delicately by the stem to take a sip.

Bail considered himself an average flirt; he didn’t think he was desperately smooth, but the art of it wasn’t totally lost on him, either. He could get by, often relying on quick wit to say the right thing at the right time. He could get people blushing and had in the past. A well-timed compliment, a softer tone at the perfect moment; these were both useful and gratifying.

But compared to Maul, Bail was a kriffing _amateur_ at the physical flirting. He just forgot that for a moment, while he rubbed his thumb light up and down the stem of the wine glass in a manner meant to invoke the thought of a few different pleasurable activities.

When Bail chanced a look over, right as dessert was being laid out on the table, Maul looked him dead in the eye and actually raised his own glass a bit in salute. Bail was inordinately pleased with himself and went to do the same when he got swiftly reminded just who the real talent here was.

Just as everyone was distracted, Maul narrowed his eyes and slid his decorated bottom lip through his teeth in the most devastatingly coy manner, smokey and heated and _promising_.

Bail just barely – by some miracle – managed to bite back the very salty Corellian cursing that almost flew out of his mouth when he knocked his own glass over and then had to try to clean it up with the linens.

 

 

 

At least he didn’t have to stay around after that.

Bail had begged out of the rest of the evening by claiming he’d had a long week, using that as the implied reason why he was having trouble holding conversations. Or, for that matter, holding a wine glass. It was true, it _had_ been a long week, but that had no relation to his trouble at the party.

No, his trouble had a name and knew exactly how to push his buttons.

He didn’t really have to wait long, either, for said trouble to walk in, still dressed in his party-wear. "Rough night?“ Maul asked, conversationally, tilting his head at Bail and holding a perfectly straight face while failing completely to keep the wicked amusement out of his eyes.

"I was sabotaged,” Bail answered, and he could feel himself turn red, but that didn’t stop him from leaning forward from where he was sitting on the end of his bed to grab Maul and reel him in. “Underhandedly, I might add.”

Maul ended up straddling Bail’s lap, which was often a favorite position of his, given it made up for their difference in height. “I’m not sure how that was _underhanded_ , Bail. I thought I was perfectly clear in my intentions.”

Bail just snorted back, not particularly wanting to waste time after that prolonged tease; he wrapped one arm around Maul’s lower back to hold him flush and got hold of one of his back horns to pull his head back and to the side, taking a moment to appreciate the rather lovely line of his neck. “Your _method_ was definitely underhanded. What am I going to do with you?”

Maul hissed a breath back, but it was definitely not in displeasure. "Is that rhetorical, or are you taking suggestions?“

Even in this state – turned on and approaching needy – Bail had to take a moment to laugh at that, just a happy laugh. For the whole evening; for how ridiculous and therefore wonderful it was, all the way from his probably dazed look of distraction to his spilled wine.

He laughed and then pressed a kiss to that neck he was just admiring. "It’s rhetorical,” he said, still chuckling. "I do happen to know a few tricks myself.“

And just to prove it, he caught one of Maul’s earlobes light in his teeth and teased at the stud with his tongue, taking some lovingly vengeful pleasure in just how fast he could get Maul shivering by doing that, and setting the goal in his mind to see how long it would take to turn his lover into a trembling mess in his lap without even taking his clothes off.


End file.
